


Only the Shadows

by Outfoxed



Category: Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Dream Logic, F/M, Shifting realities, Underworld
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Outfoxed/pseuds/Outfoxed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haunted by nightmares of his lost love, Cloud accepts a mission to journey through the frozen wastes of the north, at the behest of a mysterious benefactor. Little does he suspect that he is about to become entangled in a much greater struggle with the primeval forces at work around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aphelion

_"But, do you know, there's a damnable question involved in it?" Alyosha's father said. "If there's no ceiling there can be no hooks, and if there are no hooks it all breaks down, which is unlikely again, for then there would be none to drag me down to Hell, and if they don't drag me down what justice is there in the world? It would be necessary to invent them, those hooks, on purpose for me alone, for, if you only knew, Alyosha, what a blackguard I am."_

_"But there are no hooks there," said Alyosha, looking gently and seriously at his father._

_"Yes, yes," his father replied. "Only the shadows of hooks."_

-Excerpt from 'The Brothers Karamazov'

 

 

 

**Only the Shadows**

**Chapter 1  
** **Aphelion**

* * *

There was something wrong with the man's face, Cloud thought. No matter how he tried to focus on it, it always seemed to envelop itself half in the shadows. So he did his best to simply ignore the stranger.

The other man, however, did not extend him the same courtesy. He had been watching him intently for the better part of the evening from his corner seat at the back of the bar. Cloud knew it was only a matter of time before the stranger brought himself over to the counter where he was sitting to broker whatever topic was on his mind. There were always drunkards looking to pick a fight, and there was certainly no shortage of lunatics in the world. He just hoped this one wasn't the axe-crazy kind. Either of the two had a tendency to put an end to his drinking sessions, and get him kicked out of yet another watering hole for breaking something. He was not in the mood for it tonight. Not one bit.

"Another round," he said, as the barmaid walked past. "Leave the bottle."

The barmaid did as he asked, shaking her head and sighing as she walked away. Another lost cause looking for answers at the bottom of a glass, she must have figured. But she was wrong. There were no answers to be found. Only merciful inebriation.

He stuck to dry whiskey, for the most part, along with the occasional shot of gin or rum for variety's sake. Though the bartender had assured him it was "cask strength," it tasted like it was half water. Not that the other dives in town were much better. As long as the spirits had their intended effect, he didn't much mind how diluted they were. It would simply take him a little longer to dull his senses than usual, that was all.

He wasn't sure if it was to still the demons, or perhaps just to keep from remembering. If he could keep from remembering, he could keep from dreaming. And if he could keep from dreaming..

Lately, the same dream had accosted him one night after another, worse than the nocturnal horrors that usually visited him. A dream of her.

He had always imagined she would be somewhere far away, in some semblance of a perfect afterlife. A place where only everlasting joy would be found. A vast field of flowers, blooming underneath an impossibly bright sky. An unending, elysian field where she could find the peace she had sought in life. Some place like that.

What he beheld instead was very nearly the opposite. In his dream, she knelt at the bottom of a black pit, held in place by shackles made of shadows, being torn apart by hooks that were not hooks. And he watched helplessly, bound to a wall on the far side of the pit, as she was rent asunder, night after night, screaming for help.

For the past two years, he had walked the Earth, seeking her, and finding nothing. It was a foolish thing to think, that there could be some reprieve, some suspension of the laws of nature, just so the two of them to be together once more. Yet he could not but hope.

Though his friends had encouraged him to move on, some of them quietly and others explicitly, he knew he could not, and so, he sensed, could they. And they knew why, just as well as he did. When he had first met her, he realized that he had encountered something purer than he imagined could exist in the world. A spirit incapable of being bent or broken by the pitiless nature of the world around her. No matter what hardships she suffered, her kindness and lustre could not be diminished. And no matter how bad things got, she could always be counted on to brighten her friends' day, and to make things better.

And then, just as he had begun to take her comforting presence for granted, she was snatched away from him. Bitterness might be solipsistic and indulgent, he thought, but it was hardly the most irrational response he could have adopted. Idealism, on the other hand, seemed trite and naive in the face of the emptiness left in the wake of her demise. Hers was but one life, sacrificed on the altar of the greater good, and yet it seemed to him a pyrrhic victory. For two years, he had sought her and the fabled Promised Land of which she had spoken, but in the end, there was simply nothing to be found. And so, after long days of travel, weariness and obsession, his journey came to an end.

"Mr. Strife?" a voice came from behind him.

While his mind was occupied with sundry thoughts, the stranger had finally gotten up and approached him. The tall man sat down next to him, offering a friendly smile. Cloud said nothing, and did his best to pretend he had not heard the man speak.

"I have a job for you," the stranger said.

"Good for you," Cloud replied. "Now piss off. I'm trying to get drunk."

"But hardly succeeding," the stranger said, catching his arm, pressing the glass back down to the counter. "Those cells of yours won't let you."

The stranger looked at him directly, offering another, more knowing smile. "Will they?" he asked.

Cloud looked up at the stranger. The man had his attention now.

Following Shinra's smear campaign against Avalanche and the group's branding by the authorities as a terrorist organization, most of his old comrades had done their best to lay low. In the wake of the calamities that nearly annihilated the world, they had spent several months on the authorities' most wanted list, before fading into obscurity once more. The world forgot them, as it did most things in due time.

Cloud, too, had done his share of laying low. Laying low was becoming, along with his newfound affinity for alcohol consumption, something of a specialty for him. The two endeavours, in combination, allowed him to keep the rest of the world at bay. But no matter how much he consumed, infernal lucidity continued to plague him. He could thank Hojo's ingenuity for that. Some time during the inception of the SOLDIER program, the professor had discovered the regenerative properties of Jenova cells, and begun to administer them to potential recruits, in addition to their mandatory Mako therapy. Many recruits had ended up dead or insane as a result, as the alien cells took over their bodies, but as long as it gave the survivors an edge in combat, those among Shinra's high command didn't much care how the results were achieved. The cells guarded their new hosts with great zeal, against all wounds and foreign agents, and that included warding off the deleterious effects of alcohol.

The sordid details of the SOLDIER project were among the sort of information that didn't go public, and he suspected that there was a great deal more to the story that would never be uncovered. This kind of historical manipulation was not new to him, either. Mere hours after the destruction of Nibelheim, Shinra's clean-up crews had arrived on the scene, removing all evidence of the incident, disavowing any knowledge of his and Zack's involvement, listing them both as KIA, along with the other casualties of the inferno. The rest of his exploits and those of his friends had been similarly distorted. As a result, few people knew the truth about Avalanche's activities, or anything of Cloud's past.

Yet despite all the misinformation circulating about Avalanche and himself, Cloud knew that there were a number of different ways for someone to unearth the truth about his past, few of them legal.

"How do you know that?" he asked. "Who are you?"

"Who I am is not important," the stranger said.

"You want to do business, I need a name," Cloud said.

"If you insist," the stranger said, offering yet another, all-too-friendly smile. "The name is Coleridge. That will do for our transaction."

"How do you know about.." Cloud began.

Coleridge held up his hand. "It is my business to know such things. But you need not worry," he said, sensing Cloud's apprehension. "It is also in my best interest, for the time being, not to tell."

Cloud looked at the man, wondering if he was making an attempt at blackmail. The stranger seemed genial enough, though he doubted that his convivial manner was anything more than an act. The man spoke with the voice of a practiced orator, deep, rich, beguiling... and yet his words were laced with a detached irony, twisting every word he spoke into a mocking tone, barely perceptible beneath his cordial diction. It struck him as the unctuous and feigned friendliness of someone who wanted something from someone else. Nevertheless, he decided that he would hear the man out. He could always turn down his offer once he was done talking.

"Let's hear it then, Mr. Coleridge," Cloud said. "And before you start," he added, "if you're looking for a mercenary, go somewhere else. I only do deliveries."

"Ah, but this _is_ a delivery that I have in mind," Coleridge said. "A very special delivery, you might say."

Cloud picked up his glass again, eyeing the man with distrust, waiting for him to continue. Despite the alcohol's lack of effect, he resumed his drinking as Coleridge spoke.

"There's a village in the frozen north, near the impact crater.." Coleridge began.

"I know it," Cloud said.

"You do?" Coleridge replied. "Excellent. That will make things easier."

Cloud looked over at Coleridge again, still unable to properly discern his face from the shadows. He got the feeling that this was not news to him.

"What about it?" he asked.

"I need you to deliver something there," Coleridge said.

"And what would I be delivering?" Cloud asked.

Coleridge produced a small, thin envelope and placed it on the counter.

"Is that all?" Cloud asked. "Why don't you just use a mailbox?"

"The item to be delivered is... singular. I would rather keep its conveyance from prying eyes," Coleridge said. "I'm sure you understand the need for discretion."

Cloud said nothing. He finished his drink and poured himself another.

"What do you say?" Coleridge asked.

Cloud sighed. He realized that the stranger wasn't going away without an answer. "Fifty thousand," he said. "Half now, the other half when the job's done."

"Agreed," Coleridge replied, without a moment's hesitation.

Cloud paused, lowering his glass back onto the counter. He was getting worried now. Fifty thousand, he knew, was an unreasonably high sum, even for such a long-distance delivery, and Coleridge must have known as much. Yet the stranger had accepted right away, without even making any attempt to haggle with him. Something was not right.

"I changed my mind," Cloud said. "A hundred thousand."

"Very well," Coleridge said, undeterred by the high price.

The celerity with which Coleridge agreed to the new sum was troubling. _"He must really want this letter delivered,"_ Cloud thought. _"Either that, or there's something else going on."_

Coleridge seemed to take his silence for assent. "I take it we have a deal, then?" he asked.

"If your money's good," Cloud replied.

He watched as Coleridge produced another envelope, placing it on the counter between them. "The first half," he said. Cloud opened the envelope, checking its contents. The money was good, which did little to ease his worries. But he knew he could not afford to turn down the job. A hundred thousand was a windfall, and the money was much needed at the orphanage. Sighing again, he decided to accept the offer, going against every instinct that told him otherwise.

"Then we have a deal," Coleridge said.

The two of them shook hands. Then Coleridge got up and walked out of the bar. Cloud remained seated for a moment, examining the envelope he was to deliver, while he finished his drink. What little semblance of honour he had left in him kept him from tearing it open right there and then to examine its contents. A deal was a deal. And he would see his end of the bargain through, no matter what.

* * *

Unbeknownst to him, another figure had been watching their exchange from the shadows.

"Don't take the bait," the figure said. "Don't take the bait. Come on, Spikes, don't take the bait.."

The figure watched with dismay as Cloud and the stranger shook hands.

"Damn it, he took the bait," Zack said. "Looks like it's time for plan B. Neith, meet me outside the city in five."

* * *

The cool night air brushed against his skin as he drove back to the outskirts of the city. There was little traffic to speak of in this sector, and even less so as he passed from the neon-lit streets of the inner city to its ramshackle borders. For the most part, he had the road all to himself, something that he enjoyed. Driving down the abandoned outer city at night was always strangely calming, even relaxing, to him.

It was a little after midnight when he pulled into the parking lot next to Seventh Heaven. Ever since the end of their war with Shinra and Sephiroth, their new abode served dual roles as part speakeasy, part orphanage. Not the greatest of combinations, but they did what they had to in order to make ends meet. The crisis had left innumerable children without parents, and they had taken it upon themselves to look after them.

He could see a light still shining through the windows of the lower level. Inside, there was Tifa, waiting for him at the bar, as she always did. He had hoped that he would find her asleep, but she still insisted on worrying about him, and waiting for him to come home.

"Hey," she greeted him.

"Hey," he replied, setting his gear aside.

He did his best not to meet her gaze as she walked up to him. He couldn't bear to. The way she still looked at him, half forlorn and half hopeful. He wished that things could be simple. That he could just make her happy. But there was still something that stood in the way, and they both knew what it was, though they rarely spoke of it. His childhood friend had suffered and sacrificed as much as any of them, and she deserved to be happy. But as much as he wanted to make her happy, he couldn't, and he hated himself for it. Yet, she still stood by him, hoping that some day things would change.

"You're back early," she said. In truth, it was becoming quite late in the evening. But for him, anything before three in the morning was considered 'early'.

"Got a job," he said, heading for the back room.

"How much?" Tifa asked.

"Fifty," Cloud said, picking out some warm clothes for the journey.

"Fifty?" Tifa asked. "That's kind of low, isn't it?"

"Thousand," Cloud finished. "More when the job's done."

Tifa swallowed hard, but said nothing. She knew as well as he did that a hundred thousand was more than both of them could make in a year. Holding the orphanage together was strenuous at the best of times, and lately it seemed that they were falling upon hard ones, with debts slowly piling up. Heating and electricity were far more expensive than they had been back in the days of Mako reactors, and the state of disrepair that the place was always in didn't help. As soon as they repaired one part of the building, another seemed to fall apart, because there was never enough to go around to finish the task. But this job meant that they wouldn't have to worry about such things for a while. Cloud knew that this Coleridge character was likely as crooked as they came, but as long as it was just a delivery..

"Get the kids something nice, okay?" he said, handing Tifa the money. He had little intention of keeping any of it for himself. He had as much as he needed for travelling, and he knew the money would be safer in her hands.

She nodded, accepting the envelope. "Are you going far?" she asked.

"Up north," he said. "Icicle Village. Won't be back for a few weeks."

"You're leaving tonight?" she asked.

"The sooner I leave, the sooner the job's done, right?" he replied.

"Will you be okay by yourself?" she asked.

"I'll be fine," he said, heading for the door "Don't worry."

She stopped him for a second, pulling him into a tight hug. "Be safe," she said.

He returned the embrace, holding on to her for a moment, not quite ready to say goodbye.

Then he let go and walked out the door.

* * *

He had contemplated visiting the lost city of the ancients along the way, but he wanted to get the delivery out of the way first. There would be plenty of time to visit Aerith's grave later, and indulge in mourning.

It wasn't like she was going anywhere.

When he came to the village, he found it deserted. It looked as though it had been for a long time. Old, rusted vehicles sat in their parking spaces, gathering snow and ice, barely discernible from the other mounds of snow. Creaky, wooden doors and shutters banged against their frames as the wind picked up from time to time. Somewhere in the distance, a lone wolf let out a long, lugubrious howl, echoing through the winter night.

The calamities visited upon the world had simply proven too much for the inhabitants of the old village, and so they had abandoned it, leaving it a town fit only for ghosts to inhabit. However, there was one house in which a light could be seen through the window. Cloud recognized it. Professor Gast's old home.

Venturing inside, he found the house as deserted as the rest of the village, though the interior seemed to be in better condition than those of the other buildings. The cellar door had been flung open, he noticed, and there was a light on downstairs.

He walked down the brittle stairs, watching for any signs of life. The basement was filled with old machinery and lab equipment, some of which was still in use, by the look of it. There was little else to be seen, other than a musty operating table and a small lantern hanging over it from the ceiling.

"Ah, you're here," a familiar voice came. "Good."

Cloud turned around, his hand reaching instinctively for the hilt of his sword.

"Coleridge?" he said, as the figure emerged from the shadows.

"In the flesh," Coleridge said, stepping out into the light.

"What's going on here?" Cloud asked. "You didn't hire me just to deliver a letter to yourself."

"I never said it was a letter you were delivering," Coleridge replied, smiling.

Cloud bristled, ignoring his employer's cryptic reply. "Here's your damn letter," he said, throwing the envelope down on the ground between them. "Now, where's my money?"

"I will hand it to you presently," Coleridge said. "There is, however, something you should see first."

Coleridge walked over to the opposite end of the room, sweeping aside a curtain concealing another, smaller room. The room contained a stone slab in the centre, upon which a heavy shroud of plastic had been laid. The shape underneath the shroud looked vaguely human. Cloud followed Coleridge inside the room, keeping his eyes on the older man the whole time, watching for any sudden moves or strange behaviour.

Without a word, Coleridge removed the shroud, revealing the rotting corpse underneath. Cloud drew back, recognizing the figure on the slab.

Sephiroth.

"What the hell is this?" Cloud asked. He held his hand up against his face to ward off the stench of decaying flesh.

"What it appears to be," Coleridge said. "Don't tell me you don't recognize your own handiwork."

The general's remains were barely recognizable. The body was severely putrefied, its eyes sunk into their recesses, the flesh torn and cut, as though savaged by wild animals. Death had not been kind to his old nemesis.

"I didn't do this," Cloud said, shaking his head. He watched Sephiroth's remains warily, as though expecting them to suddenly spring to life once more.

"You need not worry," Coleridge said. "I assure you he is quite inert."

Cloud clenched his fists, furious at the man for his deception. He knew from the start that Coleridge could hardly be on the level, but he was in no mood his for macabre games. "Okay," he said. "Here's what's going to happen next. You're going to hand me the rest of my payment, say goodbye, and leave. Then I do the same, and we never see each other again. Clear?"

"Naturally," Coleridge said, not distressed in the least by the threatening tone in Cloud's voice. "I will impart you with your promised reward shortly. But I'm afraid there is one final matter to be taken care of, first."

"And that is..?" Cloud asked.

"A question," Coleridge said. "Permit me a moment more of your time, and then I promise we shall meet no more."

Cloud watched as Coleridge circled the stone slab. Under normal circumstances, he would have walked out by now, but there was something holding him in place. The older man traced the outline of Sephiroth's corpse, shaking his head. "The body. Such a fragile vessel, don't you agree?" he said, looking up at Cloud.

"But the soul..." he continued. "Ah, such a thing is not so easily destroyed, is it? I said your old friend here is inert, but he is far from gone."

Coleridge stopped, looking directly into Cloud's eyes. "In fact, he's here with us right now," he said. "He's close."

"What?" Cloud said, taking a step back. He felt a profound sense of unease as Coleridge spoke.

"Can you feel it?" Coleridge asked. "His presence?"

Cloud took another step back. It was getting harder for him to breathe, and his heart was beginning to beat more and more rapidly. He felt drowsy, as though all the drinks he had consumed in the past two years were finally catching up with him. The world around him grew hazy, and he thought he could see someone else standing in the shadows behind Coleridge.

He watched Coleridge as he crossed the room again. There was something in his hand. A stone scepter, in the shape of a coiled serpent, the runes inlaid in its grooves lighting up as the old man spoke. He tried to move away, but Coleridge's gaze held him transfixed.

"He is to walk the Earth again," Coleridge said, tracing his fingers across the length of Sephiroth's corpse. "But for that to happen, we will require a new vessel. A new body."

"Yours," he said, looking at Cloud. This time, there was no pretense of mirth in his smile.

Cloud stumbled backwards, knocking over bottles and beakers as he fell to the ground. He felt weak, as though something were draining him of all his vigour.

"Ah, yes," Coleridge said, producing a small envelope from his coat. "I almost forgot. The last half of your payment."

He threw the envelope at Cloud's feet. "Not that you'll be needing it where you're going," he added.

Cloud forced himself back up to his feet, drawing the knife he kept concealed underneath his long sleeve. He darted at Coleridge, aiming for his neck, but Coleridge anticipated the move, catching his arm, pressing down on him with more strength than his frail body should have been capable of mustering.

Coleridge forced the knife out of his hand, then knocked him to the ground with his scepter. As he fell to the floor again, Cloud caught a glimpse of the real Coleridge, the true face behind the masquerade. Not a man, or a monster. A shadow. His assailant was composed of nothing more than black vapours; a smouldering, shifting fog, assuming the shape of a human being. The moment of lucidity quickly passed, and he beheld once again only the veneer of his new nemesis.

He tried to stand up again, but the pressure bearing down upon him now was unimaginable. He felt as though his soul were being wrenched out of his body.

"What... are you?" he gasped, struggling to breathe.

"A man whose time has come," the shape that was Coleridge replied, moving in closer. "Yours, I'm afraid, just ran out."

To his horror, he watched as the putrefied body behind them rose from the stone slab, writhing unnaturally as it moved, the pendulous skin of its malformed face peeling further apart as it neared them. The rotting cadaver watched him with its eyeless gaze as Coleridge moved in closer.

"Goodbye, Mr. Strife," Coleridge said, raising the stone scepter above his head. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

The final blow came, and with it, his soul was dislodged from his body. He sank into the ground, wherein he was struck by a deluge of delusional dreams. As he descended into the marrow of the Earth, the realms of the underground unfolded before his eyes. He could see the hooks. The shadows. The unending corridors of fire. Ashen coffins, altars of sacrifice and oceans of blood. The stone sarcophaguses, pulsating from the conflagration within. The torrential screaming of untold lost souls..

And then he plunged further still, into a deeper hell than he ever imagined could exist.

* * *

Clarity returned to him, as his descent came to a close, after untold centuries of deranged dreaming. The torpor that had enveloped his frame gradually faded, allowing him movement once more. He struggled to move onto his side, then sat up, his head clearing, as though he were waking from a deep sleep.

He blinked a few times, letting his surroundings come into focus. Though he had traversed most of the known world, the landscape around him was one he did not recognize. As his senses returned to him, he realized that it could not be any place on the surface of the Earth. He was in what appeared to be a giant catacomb, deep underground, atop a bridge, underneath which a waterfall cascaded. Only the waters seemed to be slowly seeping backwards, not forward. Next to him, he saw several shattered stone gargoyles. Or rather, stone gargoyles that seemed to be in the process of shattering, but never quite finishing, their fragments hanging suspended in the air, as though frozen in time. The whole place seemed to exist outside of time and the notions of causality that he'd known in life, with everything arrested in motion, trapped in limbo. It wasn't what he'd expected of the afterlife, but where else could he be?

"Wake up, Spikes," a familiar voice came.

Looking up, he saw someone approaching him. "Zack?" Cloud said, as the man's face came into focus.

"Long time, no see, kiddo," Zack said, grinning at him. "How's death treating you?"

"...I'm dead?" Cloud asked. It seemed a stupid question, but he had to ask it.

"Well... yes," Zack said. "And no. It's complicated."

He offered his hand, helping Cloud back to his feet. "Come on," he said. "I'll fill you in on the way."

"What's going on, exactly?" Cloud asked.

"Where do I start?" Zack said. "We've got troubles like you wouldn't believe."

"Trust me, Zack," Cloud said, taking in their otherworldly surroundings. "If ever I was in a believing mood, it's today."

* * *

**A few days later**

Coleridge and Sephiroth walked through the streets of New Midgar, blending into the crowd. None could not see past their deception, and few would take notice of them even if they could.

"How does it feel to be among the living once more?" Coleridge asked.

"This body is... adequate. It will do, for now," Sephiroth replied, studying the right hand of his new body, closing it into a fist, then opening it again, as though testing it. He couldn't help but smile. Suborning the body of his old nemesis seemed a nice, neat way of taking revenge. Two birds with one stone. "But you promised you would restore me to full power," he said, looking at Coleridge.

"All in due time," Coleridge replied. "I have a few things I need to take care of, first. In the meantime, why don't you go and introduce yourself to the family?"

With that, Coleridge departed, leaving Sephiroth standing alone outside the Seventh Heaven. He waited a moment, looking the place over, before stepping through the door.

"You're back," Tifa said, coming down the stairs to meet him. Another smile crept up on his lips.

 _"Yes,"_ Sephiroth thought. _"Yes, I am."_


	2. The Divide

"Along the shore, the cloud waves break,  
The twin suns sink behind the lake,  
The shadows lengthen  
in Carcosa."

_—Robert W. Chambers, 'The King in Yellow'_

**Chapter 2**   
**The Divide**

* * *

"Zack... what _is_ this place?"

They were out of the catacombs, and now found themselves situated within a cavernous chamber, which resembled nothing so much as an old gothic cathedral. Their footfalls echoed throughout its hallways, its ashen floors and walls seeming to stretch out to infinity. The stonework was cracked and chipped, with whole sections of the floor broken off, revealing the bottomless, black pit below. On either side of the nave, long windows made of stained glass permitted what little light existed in this tenebrous realm to pass through to the inside. The windows' intricate impressions were marred by the numerous places in which they had sustained damage, and fragments of them floated through the dusty air, without ever reaching the ground below. As with the rest of this world, they seemed to be frozen in place, as though time no longer applied to them.

High above them, near the arched ceiling at the far side of the chamber, there hung a giant mechanical clockwork, fragmented as though it were a pocket watch being disassembled for repairs, its cogs and wheels hanging suspended in the air. None of its disparate parts touched one another, yet the clockwork moved in unison, ticking away in the shadows of the rafters. As the hands struck midnight, a distant bell could be heard tolling, echoing throughout the cathedral's benighted halls. The notes being sounded did not seem quite right. There was a hollowness to the chime, as if it were resounding backwards, rather than forward.

"...Are we in hell?" Cloud asked.

"Not hardly," Zack said. "This is what you might call a 'mindscape'."

Cloud, not quite following Zack's meaning, looked at over at his companion, awaiting a further clarification.

"It's not a real place, exactly," Zack explained. "More like a reflection of someone's state of mind. In this case, yours."

As he spoke, they reached a door leading outside. The cathedral stood on a tall hill, separate from the rest of the world. There was no sky to be seen, only a kind of murky horizon, caught in eternal twilight. Somehow, Cloud had the feeling that there was no other time of day to be found down here.

Past the hill, he could see a small village, cut off from the cathedral by a great rift. Below them was the same sea of darkness, impenetrable and without end. Several shards of what appeared to have once been a bridge hung in the air throughout the rift. As they approached the hill's edge, the shards slowly aligned themselves into a bridge for them to cross. Cloud looked over at Zack, who merely nodded, gesturing for him to follow, though he himself did not seem all that convinced of its safety. They moved across the bridge with slow, cautious steps, doing their best to keep their minds off the black maw below.

As they reached the other side, they could see that the village was engulfed in flames. The conflagration devoured the humble wooden buildings, charring and blackening the woodwork as it burned away in slow motion. Throughout the village, there stood pillars of ash in the the shapes of people, frozen in various poses of perpetual agony and torment. Another moment trapped in eternity. Zack, out of curiosity, reached out to touch one of the ash figurines. He and Cloud were startled by a shrill scream as the figure burst into flames, crumbling into dust as his hand brushed against its surface.

"I hate to break it to you, Spikes," Zack said, withdrawing his hand, "but... you've got issues."

"Sorry," Cloud replied. "I'll try to think happy thoughts from now on."

Zack shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. You can't fool this place. It only reflects what's in your subconscious mind. It's not so easy to change that."

"Is it going to be like this the whole way?" Cloud asked, looking over the afflicted village.

"I sure hope not," Zack replied. "Come on. Let's keep moving."

They walked on down the winding path, heading out of the village. Presently, they came to an overcast forest. There was no sign of life within the woods, only the same distant rumbling that could be heard all throughout the shadowy landscape.

"So, we're in the Lifestream, then?" Cloud asked.

"Sort of," Zack replied. "We're not _in_ the Lifestream, per se. We haven't been absorbed into it yet. Right now, we're in the otherworld that lies between it and the surface."

"The surface?" Cloud asked.

"Land of the living, my friend," Zack said. "Which is where we're headed."

"Why haven't we been absorbed yet?" Cloud asked.

"It takes a while," Zack said. "Takes longer for some souls than others. But everyone gets absorbed eventually."

"So, how do you know how long it takes for someone to be absorbed?" Cloud asked.

"Beats me," Zack said. "Maybe some souls linger because they've got unfinished business. Or maybe they're just not ready to move on."

"I see.." Cloud said.

"Come on," Zack said. "Let's keep looking."

"What are we looking for?" Cloud asked.

"An exit," Zack said. "We need to get out of your subconscious and into mine. From there, we can get back to the surface."

"Why can't we just leave from here?" Cloud asked.

"Because you're not dead, technically speaking," Zack said. "Your soul is still tethered to the world of the living. Another reason this place is so messed up. All thanks to you-know-who."

"Right," Cloud said.

"So, your subconscious is caught in limbo, so to speak," Zack continued. "Mine's forming a link between this place and the world of the living, for the time being."

"All right," Cloud said. "I'll follow your lead. Still seems a little strange, though."

"What isn't these days?" Zack replied. "Let's just say this isn't standard protocol down here. They let me piggyback my subconscious onto yours so I could get you out of here."

"Why?" Cloud asked.

"Well, I guess they figure that since you let Pandora out of her proverbial box, it's up to you and me to put'er back."

"You keep mentioning 'them'," Cloud said. "Who are 'they'?"

"The people who run this place," Zack said. "The elder voices."

"Voices?" Cloud asked.

"Yeah. Like the ones Aerith said she used to hear."

Cloud nodded, but said nothing further. Hearing Aerith's name still had that effect on him, even after two years. Time had not dulled that ache in the slightest. He tried not to think of her. It was too painful to resurrect those memories.

He wondered if what Zack said was true. Had he really let the demon out of his cage? And if so, how would he right the wrong he had unknowingly committed? Right now, he had far more questions than answers, but regardless, he knew that their new nemesis had to be stopped before someone else came to harm.

"So, this Coleridge.." Cloud began.

"Deimos," Zack said. "That's what they call him down here. Don't know if that's his real name, or even if he has one."

"What can you tell me about him?" Cloud asked.

"Not much," Zack said. "Just that he's old. _Real_ old. Some kind of tyrant from way back when. They say he figured out the secret to immortality, or something like that. A way to keep from getting absorbed back into the Lifestream. And let's just say that once he had that power, he ran wild with it."

"So he's bad news, huh?" Cloud asked.

"Bad?" Zack chuckled. "'Bad' doesn't even begin to describe it. I'm telling you... The things he did back in his day make Sephiroth's little temper tantrum look like Santa Claus handing out kittens on Christmas Eve."

"What did he do?" Cloud asked.

"Well, for one, he tried to drown the world in a sea of its own blood," Zack said. "And that was on the day when he was in a _good_ mood."

"Okay, I get it," Cloud said. "He's trouble. We've dealt with trouble before."

"Not like this," Zack said.

"We'll figure something out," Cloud said. "We just need to get out of here, first."

"So, you're up for the challenge?" Zack asked.

"Believe me, Zack, I'm _dying_ to even the score," Cloud replied.

"Glad to hear it," Zack said.

"By the way..." Cloud said. "That thing he used on me.."

"A soul scythe," Zack said. "He used it to separate your soul from your body. It's some kind of magic or technology from the past. It even predates the Cetra, from what I hear."

"So... this Deimos character has been around for all this time," Cloud said. "No-one's ever taken him down?"

"They've never found a way to kill him, if that's what you're asking," Zack said. "So, instead, they built a special prison for him down here."

"I take it that didn't stop him, either," Cloud said.

"He got out," Zack said. "We don't know how."

"So, that's Deimos," Cloud said. "But what's Sephiroth got to do with all of this? Why is he involved?"

"Hell if I know," Zack said. "Maybe they thought they'd make a good team. Or maybe they're just having a contest to see who's the better murderous whackjob."

"He's got to be after something," Cloud asked. "Demois, I mean. I take it he didn't break out just for the hell of it."

"You're assuming I have some special insight into how genocidal lunatics think," Zack said. "I'm flattered, but.."

"All right. Fair point," Cloud said. "So, how do we get out of here?"

"Just need to find the exit," Zack said.

"That's all?" Cloud asked. "Seems like a pretty simple way to escape from the afterlife."

"Well, they don't let just anybody out," Zack said.

"Obviously," Cloud said.

"I mean, you can imagine the chaos if everyone could just up and leave this place whenever they pleased," Zack said. "If they could do that, I doubt there'd even be a Lifestream left."

"Speaking of leaving.." Cloud said.

They had reached the end of the forest, and now stood in front of another chasm, on the other side of which was located a fortress, its high walls warding off all further progress. The walls themselves seemed to go on forever in either direction, and the chasm could only be crossed by a narrow bridge, which was still some distance away. Within the fortress itself, a pillar of fire extended from the ground to the sky above, reaching high up into the heavens. Even at this distance, they could feel the force and heat emanating from the swirling inferno waiting on the other side.

"This must be it," Zack said. "Just a little further."

They continued down the path, heading for the bridge. At the far side, they could see the only opening in the wall, a small gate made of intricate mechanical locks.

"You've done this before, right?" Cloud asked. "I mean, you know how it works, I'm guessing."

"Kind of," Zack said.

"So, you've been to the surface before," Cloud said.

"Yeah," Zack said. "When they realized Demois was loose, they asked me to help. I've actually been keeping an eye on you for some time, trying to make sure this didn't happen. Not that there's much you can do when you're dead, except watch.."

As they reached the other side of the bridge, they walked over to the gate, examining the mechanism that kept it sealed. A golden clockwork was inlaid in the centre of the gate, though from its appearance, there seemed to be something missing.

"There's the door," Zack said. "Now, we just need to find the key for it.."

The two of them looked around for a moment, scanning their surroundings for anything resembling a key.

"Ah, there it is," Zack said, bending down to pick up a small, golden cog from the ground next to him. "Thanks, Spikes."

"...You're welcome?" Cloud replied, shrugging. His friend made it sound as though he'd had a hand in their serendipitous find. Not that he had much control over this place, from what Zack had just told him.

Zack held the small piece up, fitting it into the mechanism on the door. At first, nothing seemed to be happening. Then, the clockwork gradually began to move. The inner cogs started to rotate, forcing the rest of the mechanism to move as well, with the inner parts moving clockwise, while the rest of the wheels turned counter-clockwise. The whole mechanism continued to move in this manner until its pieces aligned, locking in place. As they did, a loud noise reverberated throughout the walls, as though something heavy were being shifted inside the gate's mechanism. Then, the lines hewn in the doorway lit up. Cloud and Zack held up their hands, shielding their eyes from the sudden brightness, as the cracks in the stonework flared up, and the mechanical lock fell apart.

As the light faded, they saw that the gate was gone. In its place was an alcove, impossibly bright, where the gate had been a minute ago.

"After you," Zack said.

Cloud looked at his companion for a moment, then stepped through the gateway and into the light.

* * *

They walked on for an uncertain amount of time, making their way through the tunnel of light, enveloped by a brightness too opaque for them to see anything, before finally reaching the door on the opposite side. Venturing through it, they found themselves inside a wholly different kind of building than the one they had seen on the outside, all mahogany staircases, red velvet carpets and oil paintings. There was lively jazz playing on an old victrola, the tinny sound echoing throughout the hallway, and the smell of cigar smoke hung thick in the air. The place most resembled someone's nostalgic memories of an old-time bordello, possessed of a strange touch of class, mingled with the licentiousness of its ultimate enterprise.

As they entered the mansion, several young girls dressed in lingerie and loose-fitting nightgowns emerged from the side rooms to greet them. More girls could be seen watching them from the balcony above, leaning over the balustrade to get a better view of their new visitors. The girls flocked around the two soldiers, reaching out to caress their bodies in a flirtatious manner as they walked through the hallway. "Welcome back, handsome," one of them cooed, winking at Zack as they passed by.

"I take it we're in _your_ mind now?" Cloud said.

"Hey, don't judge, Spikes," Zack said. "Sure as hell beats your nightmares."

"If you say so," Cloud said, looking over the cavalcade of courtesans surrounding the two of them. Charming though they were, they all seemed just a little _too_ friendly..

They pressed on, doing their best not to let the surrounding succubi distract them from their purpose. At the far end of the hallway, they reached an elevator set in the centre of the wall, between the pair of semi-circular staircases leading to the floor above. Zack hit the call button and the mechanism within began to stir. As they waited for the elevator to arrive, they were approached by an older woman, the madam of the house, by the look of it.

"..Zachary," the woman drawled. "You weren't thinking of leaving us so soon, were you?"

"'Zachary'?" Cloud said, giving his friend a dubious look.

"Er.." Zack replied, scratching the back of his head, looking bashful and apologetic. "Hi, missus DuBois."

"What brings you young gentlemen here?" the older woman asked.

"Um... We're just passing through. See, I need to get my friend here back to the surface.." Zack said, gesturing to Cloud.

"I see.." the woman replied, looking over at the younger man. "Such a shame. We were hoping the two of you might stay a while."

Zack glanced over at the elevator shaft to check how much longer it would be until they could leave. He looked rather uncomfortable, Cloud noted, much more so than usual.

"We've been lonely down here," the woman said, walking over to Cloud. "So _very_ lonely.." she added, running a slender finger down the middle of his shirt. She locked eyes with him, keeping him transfixed, unable to move or look away. Though she seemed a fair bit older than the girls she commanded, time had done little to mar her beauty, a fact that she seemed well aware of. But like the rest of the girls in this place, there was something vaguely alarming about her friendliness.

"Zack... are these people real?" Cloud asked, tearing himself away from the woman's gaze.

"Real enough, darling," DuBois replied, offering him a salacious smile. "Would you like me to show you?"

"Uh, no time," Zack said, pulling Cloud away from the temptress, chuckling nervously as he did. "Come on, the elevator's here."

"Don't be a stranger, now," DuBois said, smiling at them. The rest of the girls gathered around the elevator's entrance as well, giggling, blowing kisses and waving goodbye to their visitors. "Until next time, boys," one of them said. "Come back soon!" another called as the elevator doors closed.

Zack leaned against the far wall of the elevator, and the two of them breathed a sigh of relief almost in unison.

"And you say _I've_ got issues.." Cloud muttered as the elevator began its ascent.

* * *

They waited. And waited. Then they waited some more. Cloud leaned against one of the walls, tempted to sit down on the floor. The elevator was slow, to be sure, but he could have sworn that had they been in the world of the living, they would have passed by several skyscrapers' worth of floors by now. And, for some reason, the inside of the elevator was becoming unbearably hot, the air growing stale as the creaky lift rolled on through wherever it was that they were now.

"How much longer?" Cloud asked, tugging at his collar and wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Hard to tell," Zack replied. "Time gets funny down here."

"You don't say," Cloud replied.

Time wasn't the only thing that felt strange down here, he thought. Everything had an odd, disembodied feel to it, like he was seeing the world through a haze. He wasn't sure how long they had spent down in the underworld. It could have been hours, days, or mere minutes. It was impossible to tell for sure.

A jolt passed through the elevator as it came to a sudden halt. Its doors slowly slid apart, opening out into a darkened room, lit only by a tiny, flickering bulb in the corner.

Cloud and Zack stepped out of the elevator, walking past a row of gurneys upon which cadavers in varying states of decay were laid, next to open coolers. A hospital morgue, by the look of it. They crossed over to the opposite side of the room, entering the stairwell, heading up.

They moved up a few floors, locating an exit near the top of the stairwell, leading into a small, white room. The faint smell of antiseptics hung in the air. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Dog-eared magazines lay piled up on a small table beside a row of plastic chairs. Cloud thought he could even hear the faint sound of muzak in the background, pouring out from the speakers attached to the corners of the room.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Where does it look like?" Zack replied. "We're in a waiting room."

"Oh," Cloud said. "Of course."

In spite of their situation, he had to stifle a laugh. You lived, toiled, died... and then you ended up in a waiting room. Somehow, it seemed appropriately anticlimactic.

As they stood around, waiting, an elderly nurse walked up to the desk next to them. She carried a clipboard with her, which she glanced at with a bored expression on her face, before looking over at the two of them. "You boys heading down?" she asked.

"Up, actually," Zack said.

The nurse scowled, glaring at him as if to say _"We don't let people out. You know that."_

"Special exemption," Zack explained. "Uh, you'll find the order under 'Zack Fair'."

The woman sighed, looking displeased at having to release them. She made it no secret that she didn't care much for Zack, and she seemed even less thrilled with his saturnine companion. "Wait here," she said, walking over to a row of file cabinets behind the desk.

"So... this is the great gate to the underworld? Where people go when they die?" Cloud asked. "Not exactly what I was expecting.."

"There _are_ other entrances," Zack said. "This was just the easiest point of contact."

"But a waiting room?" Cloud said.

"Remember what I said earlier," Zack replied. "It's not _really_ a waiting room. More like a... a representation, you know?"

"A symbol," Cloud said.

"You catch on quick," Zack replied, grinning and tapping his forehead. "This place... the afterlife, I mean, has got rules, just like the world of the living. They just tend to come out kind of strange. It's like... how you see the world is what the world actually becomes. Your outlook gets reflected by this place. Stay here long enough, it _becomes_ your outlook."

Cloud nodded. "I think I'm beginning to understand."

The nurse returned, handing Zack a small, worn key. He flashed her what he hoped looked like a charming smile, but the old frump was having none of it. "Third door on the left," she said, looking as though she wanted to add the words _'get out of my sight'_.

The two of them wasted no time in making their exit, under the constant glare of the head nurse.

"I see you haven't lost your touch with the ladies," Cloud said.

"Shut up," Zack replied.

* * *

They passed through the winding, dilapidated corridors, making their way by the flickering, pale green lights, their surroundings now resembling that of a condemned insane asylum more than a hospital ward. Like the rest of the architecture in this place, they seemed to stretch out into infinity, twisting at strange and oblique angles. As they walked on, Cloud hazarded a glance inside some of the padded cells, where patients bound in grimy straitjackets lay writhing on their beds. Others stood up against the walls, beating their heads against the soft canvas. Yet others stared out through the tiny windows set in the heavy doors, watching him and Zack with hollow eyes as they passed by.

"Almost there," Zack said. "See? There's a light at the end of the tunnel."

"Great," Cloud said. "So we're either getting close to an exit, or we're walking up towards a freight train."

"Glad to see you've managed to hold on to your sunny disposition," Zack replied.

"I don't know how I'd survive without it," Cloud said.

There was a brief pause between his utterance and the realization of what he had said. "Don't," he added, noting the amused expression on Zack's face.

"What?" Zack replied. "I didn't say anything."

They came up to a set of double doors at the end of the corridor. "Okay, here we go," Zack said, turning the key in the lock. As he threw open the doors, they were hit by a blast of cold air, and even colder light.

They emerged into a frozen wasteland, a country in the dead of winter, by all appearances. Though they were not corporeal, Cloud noted, they could still feel the chill of the wind, and the sun seemed far too bright, making it impossible to see anything past their present surroundings.

They stood within the ruins of what was once a farm, one that had failed a long time ago, from what they could tell.

"Huh... this isn't where I came in," Zack said. "Still, we should be fairly close. Let's keep moving."

The glare faded as they walked on, the doors slamming shut behind them as they moved away from the exit. The world became a little bit clearer now, and yet, it was as though they were observing it through a lens. There was an unreal quality to it, Cloud thought, as though they were passing through a mirage, and only spirits like himself and Zack were truly real. His companion seemed solid enough, until he caught sight of him in direct sunlight, where he realized that he was only partly opaque.

He wasn't sure, but Cloud thought they might be on the far side of the Eastern continent, which he knew had once consisted mostly of farms and small towns. Sure enough, he could see another farm in the distance, and a town beyond that, although they looked to be just as devoid of life as their current location.

"So... we just escaped from hell," Cloud said.

"Not hell," Zack reminded him. "The afterlife. Big difference."

"Sure didn't look like heaven to me," Cloud replied.

"Trust me," Zack said. "If you wound up in hell, you'd know it."

"I thought I saw something like it," Cloud said. "When Coleridge attacked me, I saw these... visions. Demons torturing the damned. Lakes of fire. That kind of thing.."

"You were hallucinating," Zack replied. "Something tells me you're not exactly a stranger to that experience."

"No kidding," Cloud said. "I got plenty of that when we were after Sephiroth."

"Yeah. Jenova, too," Zack said. "That bitch just loved to screw with peoples' heads, didn't she?"

"Tell me about it," Cloud replied. "Hell's too good a fate for them, if you ask me. But I can probably tell them that in person once I join them there."

"You're kinda hung up on this whole 'going to hell' thing, aren't you?" Zack replied. "You looking for punishment or something?"

"No more than I deserve," Cloud replied.

"Yeah, but I mean... You really expected to end up there when you died?" Zack asked.

"Let's just say it wouldn't surprise me," Cloud said. "But then again, there's no need, I suppose. This world's already gone to hell."

"You know, that's what I like about you, Cloud," Zack said. "Good old, optimistic, 'sunshine and bunnies' Cloud Strife, always with a friendly smile on his lips and a song in his heart, ready to brighten everyone's day."

"That's me," Cloud replied.

"Come on," Zack said. "Let's keep moving."

"Where are we going?" Cloud asked.

"There's someone who wants to meet you," Zack said. "And I'm pretty sure you want to meet her."

Cloud opened up his mouth to ask, but then decided against it. If Zack was indeed referring to who he thought it might be... but he didn't dare say it. He didn't want to get his hopes up once again, only to have them dashed against the harsh edifice of reality.

They walked over to the nearby village, stopping at the square, between a broken-down fountain and the ruins of an old clock tower. They waited there for a moment, until they could see another figure walking towards them, emerging from the mist. Cloud gasped as he realized who it was.

"..Aerith?"

"Cloud?" the figure replied. It was her voice, all right. She sounded equally surprised to see him. As she came into view, she looked astonished, then overjoyed. She ran over to him, enveloping him in a tight hug.

"It's you," she said. "It's really you.."

Cloud put his arms around her, as well, but could think of nothing to say. He had never been one to hold speeches, but for once, he was at a total loss for words. All the things he had wanted to say to her for the past two years seemed to vanish from his mind, now that they were together again.

The deceased flower girl was just as he remembered her. The same red coat and pink dress she had worn when she passed away; the same warmth, literal and figurative, emanating from her presence. He reached up, caressing the back of her head, running his fingers through her long, mahogany locks, breathing in her scent. She did the same, pressing her hand against his cheek, smiling at him with the same smile he had always known. They stood there for a moment, touching one another, as if to confirm that what they were both seeing was indeed real.

"Hey, come on, now," Zack said. "Let's save the tearful reunions for later. We've got work to do, remember?"

"..Right," Aerith said, nodding.

With reluctance, the two of them parted, and she led them on down the road, up to one of the houses at the far end of the village. "It's this way," she said. "Follow me."

Cloud didn't know where she and Zack were leading him, but for once, he didn't care. He was with her again, and she seemed to hold no grudge against him for what happened two years ago. Whatever came next, he was ready for it, so long as she was with him.


	3. Shadow Self

_"Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual's conscious life, the blacker and denser it is."  
_ -Carl Jung

 

**Chapter 3**   
**Shadow Self**

* * *

The three of them entered the lone house at the far end of the village, passing through the door without bothering to open it. It was a startling experience to Cloud, who was still unaccustomed to the idea of being a ghost.

"Hang on a minute," he said to Zack, as they entered the house. "How are we supposed to stop Sephiroth and Demois if we're ghosts?"

"An excellent question, Spikes," Zack said. "And one that we're here to address."

"What do you mean?" Cloud asked.

"Behold, your new body," Zack said, pointing out a cadaver laid out on the table in the centre of the room. Despite the relative gloom of the old house, Cloud recognized the body.

Sephiroth.

"...You've got to be kidding me," Cloud said.

The look on Aerith and Zack's faces told him that they were not.

"You seriously want me to take over Sephiroth's body?" Cloud asked.

"Well, he's hijacked yours," Zack said. "I figure it's only fair you take his."

Cloud shook his head. "Just when I thought this day couldn't get any stranger.."

* * *

Zack and Cloud stood by, waiting and watching as Aerith performed some sort of ritual on the body laid out on the table in front of them.

"This can't be the same body," Cloud said. "I saw him get up and walk away. Looked a lot worse than this one does, too.." he added, noting the cadaver's pristine condition.

"Like I said, you were hallucinating," Zack said. "And Coleridge... I mean, Demois... he has a way of distorting reality. So they tell me, anyway."

"Wonderful," Cloud muttered. "Another mind-screw in the making."

"Whatever you do, don't underestimate him," Zack warned him. "There's a reason they built a special prison for him downstairs."

"Which is?" Cloud asked.

"Well... look at it this way," Zack said. "Only an unjust deity would mete out infinite punishment for finite sins, right?"

Cloud nodded.

"Well, they made an exception for our shadowy friend here."

"What did he do that was so bad?" Cloud asked.

"They say he tried to upend the very nature of the Lifestream," Zack said. "Of reality itself."

"How?" Cloud asked. "Is that even possible?"

"Look, it's hard to explain," Zack said. "Even I don't fully understand it. Hell, I'm not sure even _they_ understand it."

"But he does," Cloud said. "Demois."

"Like I said, he's been around for a _long_ time," Zack replied. "My point is... there's a reason they decided to inflict him with everlasting damnation. They knew he would never change. Never stop."

"So, I guess it's up to us to stop him, then," Cloud replied.

"Okay," Aerith said, turning to them. "He's ready."

She beckoned Cloud over to the table, where the body of his fallen nemesis lay still.

"I'm really not sure about this," Cloud said, eyeing the corpse laid out before him. Though he had no doubt that it was inert, he still felt uncomfortable in its presence, given his last encounter with it. And the notion of climbing inside the skin of his mortal enemy was a distasteful one, to say the least.

"Please, Cloud," Aerith said. "You have to trust me."

She took his hand, gazing deep into his eyes, pleading for his co-operation. He knew he couldn't turn her down. He had to put his misgivings aside, for his friends' sake, if not his own.

"Okay," he said. "Let's do this."

Aerith smiled at him. "Lie down," she said. "This should only take a moment."

He took a deep breath, then did as she asked, laying down on the table, which seemed to support his immaterial essence without trouble, then did his best to position himself within the motionless body laid out on it. It was a strange experience, to say the least, moving through objects which should be solid as though they were nothing but air. He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep as Aerith whispered a few more words, running her hand across his forehead as she performed the last portion of the ritual.

* * *

Some time later, Cloud opened his eyes again. The world around him appeared solid once more, and he was breathing again, this time in order to fill his lungs with air, and not merely out of habit. Sitting up, he realized that he was indeed now in possession of his old enemy's body. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a dull ache throughout his new frame, another sign that he was alive again, if only in a surrogate manner.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," Zack said, grinning. "How do you feel?"

"...Taller," Cloud replied. He reached up, pressing a hand against his throat, which felt hoarse and dry.

"Before you ask, yes, that _is_ your voice," Zack said. "Well... Sephiroth's voice. But you know what I mean."

"This'll take some getting used to," Cloud said, holding up his hands, examining them as if seeing them for the first time in his life. It was one thing being flesh and blood again, he thought, but wearing someone else's skin was not exactly a pleasant experience.

"You don't say," Zack said. "The last time I saw that thing moving around, it was trying to kill us both. But I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."

"How did you manage to get it here, anyway?" Cloud asked, getting off the table. "I thought ghosts couldn't move things around."

Before Zack could answer, Cloud realized that they were alone in the room. "Where's Aerith?" he asked.

"Well.." Zack started.

Their conversation was interrupted as someone entered the room. As she walked over to where they were sitting, the figure that was Aerith morphed into one Cloud didn't recognize. She was still a young woman, but different from the flower girl in every way. She struck him as a conjurer or sorceress of some kind, her ebony skin and ivory hair wrapped up in an intricate yet loose-fitting robe, and he thought he could see the faint markings of arcane tattoos lining the skin underneath her garments.

"So, Zack... how was that?" the young woman asked.

"Perfect," Zack replied. "Brilliant acting job. Couldn't have told the two of you apart myself."

Cloud stared at the girl with utter incomprehension.

"Cloud, this is Neith," Zack said. "She helped me get you out of the Lifestream."

"Zack... what the hell is going on here?" Cloud asked.

"I'm sorry about the deception, Cloud," Zack said. "But I needed you to trust us."

"By lying to your best friend?" Cloud said. "Not exactly a great way to build trust, Zack."

"I know," Zack replied. "Like I said, I'm sorry, but these are desperate times."

"Well... I'm alive again, at any rate," Cloud said. "Now what?"

"Now we go and stop Demois," Zack said. "We should probably get you a weapon first, though. Don't want to go chasing after this guy empty-handed."

"Hold that thought," Neith said. With that, she departed, returning moments later with a thin, black case underneath her arm, placing it on the table in the centre of the room. Cloud was surprised to see that she was flesh and blood once more, having returned to her own body.

"..You're alive?" Cloud said.

"What gave it away?" Neith asked. "The fact that I'm not floating around in a sheet, wailing and dangling chains in your face?"

"Neith here is kind of a special case," Zack explained. "They let her wander around outside of her body from time to time. In exchange, she's agreed to help us fight Demois."

"I wouldn't say I _agreed_ to it," Neith said, crossing her arms. "It's more like I was _compelled_ to assist you. In other words, I'm being involved in this mess, whether I like it or not."

"Don't worry about her, Spikes," Zack said to Cloud. "She's just slow to trust."

"And with every reason to," Neith said. "How do I know I can trust him?" she asked, looking over at Cloud.

"Look, Cloud and I here go way back," Zack said. "We're like brothers. If you can trust me, you can trust him."

"And if I said I don't trust you?" Neith replied.

"Damn... why's everyone so cold today?" Zack said.

"You were saying something about arming ourselves?" Cloud asked, turning to Neith.

Neith walked over to the table, undoing the latches on the case. She lifted the lid, presenting Cloud with his new weapon. "Look familiar?" she asked.

Within the case were contained the shattered remnants of a long blade, the halves of which had been forged into two shorter ones. Cloud examined the weapon Neith was presenting him with, realizing that it was not just any blade.

The Masamune.

The two blades were set into new hilts, and had been reshaped and worked to remove any traces of the damage they had sustained, but there was no mistaking the legendary sword.

"Where did you find this?" Cloud asked.

"Someone poor wanderer discovered it in the snow fields near the Northern Crater, not long after your little excursion there," Neith explained. "He was... eager to part with it," she added.

Cloud picked up one of the blades, examining it in the dim light. The blade felt heavier in his hand than he had expected, and, despite its recasting, still carried a trace of the spectral incandescence which he recalled from his days of working with the fallen warlord.

"I thought you should have it," Neith said. "It seemed fitting, given your current situation."

"Two blades for the price of one. Think you can handle that?" Zack asked.

Cloud picked up the second blade, turning it in his hand for an underhand grip, then made a few quick cuts and thrusts with them in unison, severing the air in front of him. Though he had never wielded two blades at once before, it seemed as natural to him as breathing. "Not a problem," he replied, sheathing the two blades behind his back.

"Well then, if you maniacs are ready to start murdering each other.." Neith said.

"Hey, we're the good guys here, remember?" Zack said.

"Of course," Neith replied. "It's not like _you_ would ever blow up a building full of innocent people or anything."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cloud asked, noting the way the young woman was glaring at him.

"Nothing," Neith replied, turning away from him. "Forget I said anything."

"All right, already," Zack said. "We don't have to like each other to work together."

"Fine by me," Cloud said. "So, what's our next move?"

"Tracking your prey," Neith said. "I'll be back in a minute. Don't touch anything."

That said, the young woman left the room once again, heading upstairs.

"So, Aerith's not here," Cloud said, for the first time betraying his disappointment.

"I'm afraid not," Zack said. "We're on our own on this one."

Neither of them said anything else. As they waited for Neith to return, they started to wander about the room, examining the various trinkets and artefacts she kept lined up on the shelves of her living room. Among the various books on occult and arcane subjects, Cloud spotted a small, grey pouch filled with material not unlike thin sawdust. He had seen it lying on the table next to Sephiroth's cadaver while Neith had performed her little ritual earlier. He reached out to examine it better.

"I said 'don't touch anything'," Neith's voice came from behind him.

"What is it?" Cloud asked.

"It's Ovidian dust," Neith explained, sealing the pouch and putting it back in its place. "Extremely rare. It induces a death-like trance in people. When applied correctly, it can also place a dead body into a receiving state, allowing a wandering soul to claim it."

"So, that's how you got me in here," Cloud said, indicating his new body. "And the ritual?"

"Mostly for show," Neith said. "We had to make sure you'd comply with our request."

"There's no magic involved, then?" Cloud asked.

"What were you expecting?" Neith replied. "'Abra-cadabra'?"

"It looks like you've done some work on this thing," Cloud said, lifting up one hand again, scrutinizing it more carefully this time. "Sure as hell didn't look this healthy last time around."

"We salvaged it from the old Gast family home, just moments after Demois left," Zack said. "Well, Neith did the actual salvaging. Can't exactly do a lot of heavy lifting like this, ya know. But I gave her plenty of moral support."

"I'm sure," Cloud replied.

"Long story short, while the two of you were wandering around down in the Lifestream, I've been curating this body, doing my best to restore it," Neith said. "Considering how little notice I had, I think I've done a pretty good job."

"So, what's our next move?" Cloud asked. "Do we know where Sephiroth and Demois were headed?"

"Midgar," Neith said. "And by now, they've probably reached their destination."

"What would they be doing in Midgar?" Cloud asked.

"Who knows?" Neith replied. "Maybe they're planning to pay a little visit to your family."

Cloud's blood went cold as the realization hit him. The Seventh Heaven. Tifa. The children. They had no idea. With Sephiroth in possession of his body, they were sitting ducks, completely unaware of the danger headed their way.

"Zack, we have to go," he said.

Even as he spoke, Zack was already headed out the door, but before Cloud could join him, Neith caught his shoulder, stopping him in the doorway.

"We've given you a chance. One chance," she said, looking him straight in the eye. "Don't fuck this up."

With that, she slammed the door in their faces.

"Lovely girl," Cloud said, looking over at Zack.

* * *

Frosted snow crunched under heavy boots as the two of them hurried through the remnants of the stockyards surrounding the small village.

"How do we get to Midgar from here?" Cloud asked, his breath turning to vapour in the cold winter air as he spoke.

"We head up north," Zack replied. "There's a station nearby. We can catch a bus back to Midgar from there."

"Isn't there a faster way?" Cloud asked.

"Not from here," Zack said.

"Great.."

They walked on for a while, making their way through the frozen landscape, with neither of them saying anything. As they passed the edge of the town's ruins, it was Zack who finally broke the silence.

"So..." Zack said. "You and Aerith."

"What about us?" Cloud asked.

"You two were close, right?"

"Yeah... we were," Cloud said. He didn't know what her reaction would be if he ever met her again. Would she hate him? Forgive him? Tell him that what happened wasn't his fault? He had no way of knowing. He knew the flower girl had never been one to hold a grudge, but he did not expect her to forgive him for his failure to protect her, or if he could even accept her forgiveness, were she to offer it.

"Did you bang her?" Zack asked.

Cloud bristled. The unexpected crassness of his friend's question grated on his nerves. He wasn't sure if Zack was being crude on purpose, or he was just being his usual, tactless self. Either way, he didn't like where this conversation was headed.

"No, Zack, I did not," he replied, feeling more than a little annoyed. "Why do you care, anyway?"

"Oh, it's nothing, really," Zack said. "But you do know I saw her first, right?" he added with a smug grin.

Cloud fought the urge to roll his eyes. He knew it was probably just more of Zack's good-natured ribbing, but he wasn't in the mood for it today. Kidding around was Zack's way of ingratiating himself with other people and, at times, served as a defence mechanism. He'd always told Cloud that he was too serious for his own good. And usually, he would have been right, but the current situation didn't merit much levity, as far as Cloud was concerned. There was no time to waste on bickering about relationships. There were more important things at stake.

"So?" he replied. "That just means she's tired of looking at you."

"...Ouch," Zack replied. "Geez, Spikes. Why so crabby today?"

"Oh, I don't know," Cloud said. "Being dead might have something to do with it."

"For the last time, you're not dead," Zack reminded him. "Not really."

"This isn't living, that's for sure," Cloud said, raising his hands up to the light again, still getting used to the idea of having stolen the remains of his arch-nemesis.

"You've got a body, don't you?" Zack said. "That's a start."

"The start of what?" Cloud replied. "Nothing good, if you ask me."

Zack went quiet. Perhaps, he thought, it was best not to say anything further for the time being. He'd forgotten that Cloud could be quite caustic when angered. Though his friend was usually quite genial and unassuming, he could be downright abrasive when in a bad mood, and right now, he had every reason to be in one.

* * *

Cloud paced up and down the cobblestone street next to the bus stop, while Zack stood by, staring out into the distance. They had been waiting for nearly an hour, and yet there was nary a soul in sight. It was beginning to seem as though they were the last remaining entities in the entire world, trapped in this frozen wasteland.

"..So, you're just good friends, then?" Zack asked, hazarding conversation once again.

Cloud paused, sighing. There really was no escaping this line of conversation when Zack was around. He figured he might as well turn the tables on him.

"As far as I know," he replied. "How about you and Neith? What is she to you?"

"Oh, we're just friends," Zack said. "Acquaintances, really. We barely know each other, to tell you the truth."

"She made it sound like you've got something of a past," Cloud said. "Just how long have you known each other?"

"A little while," Zack said. "She and I got paired up for the whole 'stopping Demois from destroying the entire world' thing. I don't think she was too happy about that."

"No kidding. But she made it sound like she wasn't happy about having to work with us, specifically," Cloud said. "Something personal there?"

"Well... I might have done something to piss her off," Zack admitted. "It's hard to tell."

"Don't tell me you tried to put a move on her," Cloud said.

"Believe me, I was tempted to," Zack replied.

"You're joking, right?" Cloud said.

"What can I say?" Zack replied. "A man's got needs."

"What needs?" Cloud asked. "You're dead."

"Yeah, but my libido ain't," Zack replied.

Cloud shook his head. Same old Zack. Not even death could put a crimp on his day.

"I mean, you've gotta admit... she _is_ kinda hot," Zack said. "What with the flowing robes and the tattoos and occult mysteriousness and all that.."

Cloud resisted the urge to roll his eyes yet again, and just about managed to do so, through sheer force of will.

"But she's kinda scary, too, if you hadn't noticed," Zack added.

"Yeah, she wasn't in the friendliest of moods today," Cloud said.

"I won't lie. I don't think she's into me," Zack said. "She didn't seem to like you very much, either."

"Really?" Cloud replied. "Whatever gave you _that_ idea?"

"Just a hunch," Zack said, the tinge of irony in his friend's voice going right past his head.

"Looks like our ride's here," Cloud said.

The two of them watched as a lone vehicle pulled into the station, a rattling, broken-down grey bus that looked as though it should have been decommissioned decades ago. There were no other passengers to be seen. They cast one brief glance at one another, then boarded the decrepit vehicle.

* * *

Cloud watched the landscape changing as they neared the capital, the permafrost regions giving way to more autumnal scenery, and finally the lush verdure of the grasslands surrounding New Midgar as they neared the sprawling city.

He and Zack occupied the back seats, doing their best to appear inconspicuous. Although they had driven for several miles, they were still the only passengers aboard the bus. As Cloud watched the landscape continue to roll by, a random thought occurred to him.

"How can you be sitting on a bus?" he asked, turning to Zack.

"Come again?" Zack replied.

"I mean, if you're a ghost.." Cloud started.

Zack cleared his throat, interrupting him. "I prefer the term 'spirit', thank you very much."

"If you're a spirit," Cloud continued, ignoring Zack's interruption, "how come you can touch certain things, but not others?"

"What do you mean?" Zack asked.

"I mean, what's stopping you from falling through the earth, for example?" Cloud asked.

"We can't pass through the earth itself," Zack said. "Too much energy from the Lifestream coursing through it. Anything else, we can pass through. Trees, buildings, people.."

"So, how come you're able to sit on a bus?" Cloud repeated.

"Technically, I'm floating right now," Zack replied. "But it _feels_ like I'm sitting on a bus. Mostly out of habit, I think."

"Let me guess," Cloud said. "Hard to explain?"

"You get used to it," Zack said. "But yeah, it's kinda hard to explain."

Zack tried to think of something else to add to his explanation, noting the odd look Cloud was giving him. "What can I say? It's a weird world, man. You'd think that you'd finally get some answers when you die, but you don't. If anything, things just get stranger after you kick the bucket."

"Okay," Cloud said. "Let's get back on track. What's our plan?"

"We go and stop two maniacs from blowing up the planet," Zack said.

"That simple, huh?" Cloud replied.

"I'm sure we'll figure things out along the way," Zack said. "Don't know how much help I'll be in this state, though."

"Maybe we should find you a new body, as well," Cloud said.

"What do you want us to do?" Zack asked. "Knock some old lady over the head and steal her corpse? It's not gonna work, anyway. From what Neith tells me, a body needs to be specially prepared somehow before we can use it."

"All right, let's scrap that idea for the time being, then," Cloud said. "But how are we going to.."

He trailed off, looking out towards the front of the bus.

"What?" Zack replied.

"Why is the driver staring at us like that?" Cloud asked.

"At _you_ ," Zack said. "He can't see me, remember?"

"Oh, great," Cloud said. "So, now I look like a crazy person."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Cloud, you _are_ a crazy person," Zack replied.

"Thanks," Cloud said.

Having exhausted all avenues of conversation for the time being, the two of them simply sat in silence, waiting to reach their destination. Cloud remained tense the entire time. He had put his friends in grave danger through his own foolishness. Every instinct in him had told him not to trust Coleridge, and yet he had gone along with the stranger's entreaty. He hoped that Tifa and the children were safe, but he feared that he was merely hoping against fate. That when he and Zack would finally arrive at the Seventh Heaven, they would find..

He shook his head, trying to put the thought out of his mind, but it continued to haunt him for the remainder of their journey.

* * *

They wasted no time getting off the bus, exiting the broken-down vehicle as soon as it came to a halt, then rushed over to the far end of outer Midgar, where the Seventh Heaven was located. It was already night by the time they arrived, and they both feared that by now they might be too late.

They avoided the main entrance, in case it might be a trap, instead ducking into the alleyway beside the bar, searching for some way to get a better view of the inside. There was a fire escape next to the second floor window, which would allow them a view of the orphanage's interior without giving away their presence. Cloud hurried up the stairs, but Zack was able to reach the vantage point ahead of him. He stood still for a moment, peering in through the begrimed window, a look of sheer disbelief on his face.

"Cloud... you're not going to believe this."

"What? What is it?" Cloud asked. He hurried over to where Zack was standing, bracing himself for whatever horror he was about to witness.

What he saw was the last thing either of them had expected.

He stood there, unable to move, looking on in utter astonishment, as he watched himself seated at the table alongside Tifa and the children, laughing, smiling, and enjoying a cozy family dinner.

"...What the hell?"

* * *

They stood watch, keeping an eye on the impostor who now occupied Cloud's body, watching him as he carried on with his charade, dining, making light conversation and joining in with the children from time to time as they jostled and played. It was frightening how easily he blended in with them, the immaculate image of a contented family man.

"He's good," Cloud said.

He hated to admit it, but if it was indeed Sephiroth who was in possession of his body, he was doing a hell of a job fooling everyone around him. They had watched him for over an hour, and not once had he betrayed any hints of his true identity.

"I'll say," Zack said. "He's a better you than you are."

Cloud glowered at him.

"No offence," Zack added.

Cloud said nothing, returning his attention to the warm family scene. It was difficult to watch on as Tifa sat there, looking across the table at the man who murdered her father, smiling at him. She couldn't tell. None of them could.

As he watched, he almost began to wonder if it really was Sephiroth that he was seeing, and not himself, albeit having shed his old personality. It was a discomfiting thought, to say the least. The surreal experience of seeing oneself outside one's own body had not diminished in the least, even though they had by now kept watch over the orphanage for the better part of the evening.

As his doppelganger rose up from the table, he glanced out the window to where he and Zack stood. Instinctively, they ducked behind cover, shifting away from the window just in time to avoid being seen. Before they could hide, however, Cloud caught a momentary glimpse of his impostor, looking straight at him. There was something in his eyes, a hint of malice buried behind the convivial veneer, the mask of sanity but belying the bloody thoughts of a callous murderer. Worse yet, his enemy had caught a glimpse of them as well, and for the briefest of moments, Cloud thought he could see a knowing smile flash across his features, one which carried not the slightest trace of the feigned geniality that he employed in the presence of the children and his childhood friend.

There wasn't a shadow of a doubt in his mind any more. It was Sephiroth, his old nemesis. Behind the genial facade lay the same madman who had imperiled the world, waiting, pretending, biding his time, making himself comfortable among Tifa and the children, waiting for the right moment to strike, to rend them all apart and slit their throats, an act he would no doubt commit with the same smile on his lips.

"What do we do now?" Cloud asked.

"Well, just go in and explain the situation to them," Zack said.

"Sure, Zack," Cloud replied. "I'll just walk in there and tell them that, hey, I'm not really Sephiroth, and please take the time to hear me out, you're all in terrible danger, this man is an impostor, and he's going to kill you all."

He paused, letting out a brief, wry laugh, shaking his head. "Just how far do you think I'll get into that sentence before someone tries to chop my head off?"

"They're reasonable, right?" Zack said. "Talk fast enough, they might actually listen to you."

"Yeah... but he won't," Cloud replied, gesturing towards Sephiroth. "And once we're locked in a fight, whose side do you think they'll take?"

"...Good point," Zack said. "Still, you could take him, right? You've done it before, after all."

"I suppose," Cloud said. "But we'd be pretty evenly matched here. If he somehow gets the upper hand, Tifa and the children will.."

He trailed off, not wanting to spell it out.

"Right.." Zack replied, looking down on the ground. "You don't have any of his old powers?" he asked. "You know, levitation, mind control.."

"Not that I know of," Cloud replied.

"Too bad," Zack said. "Could have come in handy."

The two of them peered in through the window again, to ensure that the orphanage's inhabitants were still safe. "So, why's he bothering with this charade, anyway? Why doesn't he just attack them?" Zack asked.

"Because he knows he's being watched," Cloud said. "It's the only reason he hasn't made a move yet. He knew we were coming."

"Sneaky," Zack said.

"We need to keep a close eye on him," Cloud said. "Try to see if we can't catch him while he's separated from the others."

"That's gonna be tough," Zack said. "If he knows we're watching him, he's going to be clinging to them like a shadow."

"No doubt," Cloud said. "But he'll have to separate from them sooner or later."

"I hope you're right," Zack said.

"So do I," Cloud said, looking in again.

* * *

The next morning, Tifa led the children down the thoroughfare, with Cloud trailing behind them. With the money he had earned from his latest job, they could afford to treat themselves to a day out, and so they were headed to the carnival taking place near the city centre to join in the festivities. They took no notice of the two shadowy figures stalking them throughout the city.

* * *

Cloud and Zack kept close to Tifa and her entourage, taking care to stick to the shadows to avoid being seen as they tailed her and Sephiroth.

"What now?" Zack asked, as they arrived at the fairgrounds.

"We wait for our chance to strike," Cloud said.

They watched as Tifa and the children walked towards the centre of the carnival grounds, taking in the rides and attractions, admiring the variegated parades and fire-jugglers as they marched past. Finally, they settled on one of the carousels, getting in line for the popular ride.

As they moved in closer, Zack noticed that Cloud seemed to be growing more uneasy by the minute.

"What's wrong?"

"People are staring at us," Cloud said.

"At you," Zack reminded him. "You're kind of a celebrity now, remember? I'm just guessing, but I'm betting the people here are a little surprised to be seeing Sephiroth walking around again."

"Great," Cloud said. "Just what needed. Suppose I explain to them that 'no, I'm not the madman who nearly destroyed the entire world, but I get that all the time'?"

"Fair point," Zack said. "You could use some kind of disguise, now that you mention it."

Cloud paused, examining their surroundings for a moment. He had an idea. "In here," he said, gesturing for Zack to follow him inside one of the tents.

* * *

Sephiroth stood by one of the exits, waiting for his contact to arrive. Tifa had taken the children over to one of the booths to have their faces painted, giving him a chance to break off from the group for a moment. It wasn't long before he was approached by Demois.

"I see your friend is quite persistent," Demois said. "He hasn't let death deter him from coming after us."

"Just as you said," Sephiroth replied. "How did you know?"

Before they had parted, Deimos had informed him that someone might come after him in the next few days. And sure enough, there was his old enemy hounding him yet again, having usurped his own body. According to Demois, all of this was to be expected. As for keeping his own identity a secret, the plan was simple: He would hide in plain sight.

Demois smiled. "It is my business to know such things."

He gestured for Sephiroth to follow him as he walked through the crowded streets. "Now, tell me... does anyone in your little circle suspect your true identity?"

Sephiroth shook his head. "They have no idea."

"Good," Deimos said. "Best we keep it that way for the time being. Of course, our mutual friend might not make it easy for us. But as long as you keep his family close, he should remain docile."

"I saw him last night," Sephiroth said, "spying on us."

"Indeed?" Demois asked, looking more amused than troubled by this revelation.

"You want me to kill him?" Sephiroth asked.

"On the contrary," Demois replied. "I suspect that your old friend is about to do us a great favour."

Sephiroth sighed. His benefactor's habit of speaking in riddles was beginning to wear on his nerves. Still, he could not argue with the man's results so far. But the wait was becoming excruciating. "How much longer must I keep up this tiresome facade?" he asked. "I swear, if that floozy bats her eyes at me one more time, I'll carve them right out of her empty head."

"Patience, Sephiroth," Demois said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "All good things to those who wait."

"What's the plan?" Sephiroth asked.

"I need to make an excursion to the West," Demois said. "In the meantime, I need you to keep our dear, departed friends occupied. Once I return, you can deal with them however you please."

"And then you'll fulfil your end of the bargain?" Sephiroth asked.

"Worry not, my friend. You'll have what you desire soon enough," Demois said. "I just need your assistance to ensure that they don't get in my way. Do you think you can handle that?"

Sephiroth paused, glaring at his companion for a moment. He was not certain whether Demois was casting aspersions as to his ability to handle the situation, or whether he was merely being cordial. He did not trust his new ally, but so far, he seemed reliable enough.

"It won't be a problem," he replied.

Demois smiled again. "Good. Well, then. I have business to attend to. The Devil makes work for idle hands, and all that."

With a tip of his hat, Demois departed once more, merging with the crowd, before disappearing from sight entirely.

* * *

Zack waited, keeping watch as Cloud rummaged through the chest at the far corner of the darkened tent. The numerous containers within the grey tent were lined with various costumes for the festival outside. For the moment, the tent seemed to be abandoned, giving them a chance to purloin a few articles of clothing. After a few minutes of searching, Cloud returned with his findings, a black cloak with a cowl and a pale, featureless mask made of ivory. He put the disguise on, affixing the mask to his face, then pulled the cowl over his head, obscuring his appearance.

"What do you think?" he asked, turning to face Zack.

"You look like a ghost," Zack said.

"Beats being one," Cloud replied.

"Touché," Zack said. "Anyway, I think we'd better hurry back to Tifa and the kids. It looks like their ride's coming to a stop."

"Right," Cloud said, following his friend as he stepped back out into the streets. He pushed through the crowd, doing his best to ignore the sweltering heat of the sultry afternoon. His new disguise chafed, but it was better than being recognized by the people around him.

As he made his way through the fairgrounds, he spotted Sephiroth waiting all by himself, standing in front of one of the distorted mirrors at the far side of the concourse. Moving as quietly as possible, he sidled up behind his own body, preparing to strike.

"I know you're there," Sephiroth said, without turning.

Cloud halted, standing just behind Sephiroth, one hand gripping the hilt of the blade on his left shoulder.

"I know you've been watching us," Sephiroth continued. "You just don't realize when you've been beaten, do you?"

"Bold words from a dead man," Cloud said.

"Indeed?" Sephiroth asked, turning to face him. Cloud was taken aback as he saw his mirror image staring back at him, corrupted and menacing. The transformation in his countenance, subtle though it was, was shocking. Although Sephiroth was capable of disguising it with ease when in the presence of his friends, he had no qualms about revealing his true nature in front of his old enemy.

"I see you've joined the masquerade," Sephiroth said, examining his enemy's new accoutrements. "You can disguise yourself all you want. It will be of little avail to you."

Cloud let go of the blade, his hands falling to his sides, tightening into fists. "I'm going to kill you."

Sephiroth shook his head, taunting him. "We both know better than that," he said. "You won't make a move on me. Not here. After all, how would that look to your friends?"

With his eyes, he gestured over to Tifa and the children, still in the distance, enjoying the fair, wholly ignorant of the danger that they were in. Sephiroth smiled, seeing Cloud's reaction. It was clear that his old nemesis relished the irony of their predicament.

"As long as I'm in possession of this body, you can't touch me. You'd do well to remember that."

"And we're still watching you," Cloud replied. "You'd do well to remember _that_."

"Cloud?" Tifa's voice came.

"If you'll excuse me," Sephiroth said, offering another cold smile, "I have a family to look after.."

With that, his old nemesis departed, leaving Cloud by himself at the fairgrounds. He was incensed at the thought of having to let him go, but there was nothing he could do. He knew that Sephiroth would not make a move against Tifa and the children so long as he was being watched. But neither could he and Zack make a move against him. They were caught at a dead end.

A stalemate.

* * *

"So... we're boned, huh?" Zack said.

"That's one way to put it," Cloud replied.

They were back at the orphanage, keeping watch from the outside as they had done the night before. The family inside still could not detect any aberrations in Sephiroth's behaviour, and seemed to believe that everything was quite normal. Sephiroth seemed unlikely to break his facade anytime soon, looking as though he were waiting for something, but Cloud was ill at ease regardless, knowing of the coiled serpent that was waiting in his friends' midst.

"So, what do we do now?" he asked, looking over at Zack.

"We stick to the plan," Zack said.

"What plan?" Cloud asked. "This isn't a plan, Zack. It's suicide. Literally. Either way, I lose. I beat him, I destroy my own body, and Avalanche will think I'm dead and Sephiroth is back to finish them off. If I lose.."

He trailed off, shaking his head. He didn't need to paint the whole picture for his friend.

"And the worst part is that regardless of the outcome, we're still no closer to stopping Demois or finding out what he's after."

Zack said nothing, but simply shook his head and shrugged.

"So they sent us up here without any real plan? Is that it?" Cloud asked. "What do we even know about the situation? Where's Demois now, for example?"

The look on Zack's face told him all he needed to know.

Cloud shook his head. "We've played right into his hand. He's three moves ahead of us, and he has been right from the start. Some sages, these 'Elder Voices' of yours."

"Just be glad we're here," Zack said. "It's not like people come back to life every day, you know. I understand they've pulled a lot of strings to make this happen."

"Yeah, I can feel the strings on my back, all right," Cloud said.

"Look, we're not just puppets in someone else's game," Zack said.

"Sure feels like sometimes," Cloud replied, sighing. He walked away from the window, taking a seat next to Zack in the alley. He folded his hands in front of his face, racking his brain for a solution to their problem. As he did, a thought occurred to him. It was something he had meant to ask earlier, but in his hurry to ensure Tifa's safety, it had slipped his mind.

"Say, Zack... where _is_ Aerith?"

"Cloud.." Zack replied, turning away. For some reason, he seemed reluctant to answer.

"Where?" Cloud demanded.

"She's... in the Lifestream," Zack said. "The prison. The one they built for Demois."

"What?" Cloud replied, confused. Then the realization struck him. His dreams. His visions of the black pit. The chains, tearing at her flesh. _All this time, she's been calling out to me._ _It wasn't just a dream.._

"She's there?" he asked. "Where they held Demois?"

Zack nodded, looking as though he'd rather be talking about anything else. He seemed ashamed of having kept this information from him.

"She's suffering?" Cloud asked, growing more agitated by the minute. "Because of him?"

Zack nodded again, but said nothing.

Cloud got up, clenching his fists. "He's dead."

He could not believe his enemy's effrontery. Aerith had suffered enough in life, and if this Deimos had multiplied her miseries by even as much as a second, his own existence was forfeit. And not merely his physical existence. The whole of his essence would have to be rendered abrogate in order to compensate for his wrongdoing.

"Yeah, he kind of is," Zack said. "That's part of the problem.."

"Damn it, Zack," Cloud growled. "Why didn't you tell me!?"

"Because I knew you'd react like this," Zack said, trying to placate his friend. "Look, don't you think I want to help her? My point is, we _can't_. Not until we've stopped Demois."

"Why not?" Cloud asked.

"Because if the prison isn't occupied, it'll cease to exist," Zack said.

"What is she even doing there in the first place?" Cloud asked.

"I don't know," Zack said. "Demois tricked her into taking his place, somehow. Until we return his soul to the Lifestream, we can't free her. If we do that, he'll just run amok again, and we're all as good as dead. So we need to stop him, first."

"And how are we going to do that if we're stuck watching over the orphanage?" Cloud asked. "We take our eyes off them for one minute, and they're as good as dead. And in the meantime, Demois is wandering off doing gods knows what."

Cloud shook his head again. "This isn't going to work. We need to change up our game. We keep playing it his way, we've already lost."

"What do you propose?" Zack asked.

"I need to speak to them," Cloud said. "The Elder Voices."

"What good will that do us?" Zack asked.

"Look," Cloud said, "Demois knew about all of this, right? He knew that as long as he can keep us watching over Sephiroth, he can walk around untouched, doing whatever he wants, while the rest of us run around like headless chickens, trying to figure out left from right. If we can figure out his intentions, maybe we can find another way to stop him."

"And you think the Elder Voices can help?" Zack asked.

"Couldn't hurt to try," Cloud said. "We're not getting anywhere like this."

"What about Tifa and the kids?" Zack asked. "We can't just leave them by themselves."

"I'll go after Demois," Cloud said, "but I need you to look after them in the meantime."

"Look, I can watch over them," Zack said, indicating his immaterial form, "but it's not like I can do much to stop Sephiroth if he suddenly decides to go axe-crazy."

"That's why I need you to take over this body," Cloud said. "I figure I won't be able to get back into the spirit world like this, anyway."

"We can't just swap bodies, remember?" Zack reminded him. "We need special materials."

"I know," Cloud said." That's why I 'borrowed' some of your friend's pixie dust."

He brought something out of his pocket. A small, grey pouch. Zack recognized it as the one from Neith's home. Her satchel of Ovidian dust.

"You _stole_ it from her?" Zack said. "Why?"

He had never known Cloud to be deceitful or underhanded, but they were in a dire situation, and it was affecting not only his demeanour, but his behaviour, as well. And Neith would no doubt have their heads, once she found out.

"It's like you said, Zack," Cloud replied. "These are desperate times."

**Author's Note:**

> Repost of an older story. As always, I ask the reader's clemency in regards to its incipient state. Questions, comments and constructive criticism welcomed.


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